Popplagið
by anathemawrites
Summary: Lilith advances. "Little dogs can't tell their masters what to do." : Demon!Dean. Sammy Whumpage. Hellfire.
1. hey, deano

Popplagið  
**Creeno**

* * *

Named for the song I was listening to that inspired this. In actuality, it sounds a good deal less sinister than this fic, literally from hell. This Lucifer is brought to you by Movie!Constantine as that is the best Satan out there. Dean is brought to by the letters C W and the words Eric Kripke. This wtf-fic is brought to you by Creeno, who'd like your feedback as to whether or not to continue this...thing brought to life by Icelandic bands and avoiding, ironically, her Latin II homework. 

Ya'll have fun.

* * *

Fucking bitch lied. 

Lucifer's there, in hell, when you finally come, slipping from your brother's grasp, right into the white hot flames. He smiles at you in a white suit, bare feet on smoldering earth. You try to grin, say _Fuck you very much_, but you can't because suddenly you're reliving everything you've ever hated in a few quick seconds:

Cassie's disbelieving, angry glare magnified a hundred times, saying, No, No, NO.  
Sam's cold dead body in your arms, tears dragging down your face with rain, everything twenty times darker  
The knowledge that it was _your fault, __**your fault**_ that Dad was dead  
Sam's last words, tears to you as you slipped away and died, left him there even if was for his own good  
Your mother's burning corpse haunting your dreams  
The Crossroad Demon's laughter in a new form as the hellhounds drag you down, _down..._

Lucifer smiles at you as you lie on a table, little demons you've never seen before picking at your dead body, puling parts of you in and out and resealing them whichever way they feel is best and not what's right. They have eyes of innocent people that have died and blame you, slip their long, skeletal fingers in and out of you like it's nothing.

Then a barefoot makes contact with your head and your head screams.

You want to believe you've taken worst, but fuck. This is Lucifer, and he looks down at you like it's fucking Christmas, Halloween, and Easter all at once, sharp teeth glinting and sparking, his white suit pristine among ashes.

Clearly, you've gone poetic in your shit death.

"Dean-o," he says cheerily, and you have some smart ass comment in the back of your throat, but it's dislodged at the sight of your mother, Sam, Dad, all assembled on crosses behind him, dead, _more_ than dead. Nailed to the crosees apparently just don't do it in Hell, oh no. They're tied, gutted, sealed onto the damn things and shit, you can't look away. "Welcome to my little carnival. Glad you could finally join us,"

He laughs, drags his sharp nails through your face and suddenly you want a woman, _any_ woman, right then----no, wait, no, you're _hungry_, god you're_ starving_----

"This is my little welcoming feast for you. Like it, you little self-sacrificing shit?" his voice distorts and suddenly it's Sam, angry, disappointed Sam who's talking. No, No! Your leg suddenly gets a jolt of life, tries to go for Lucifer's own, but fails. Then it just falls, goes numb again. He smiles and some fucking goblin tears out your voice box right then, but somehow, the pain doesn't really register very well. You hurt all over, what difference does it make?

"Oh, oh, ohhh," He slaps you and suddenly all your nerves spark to life and shit, shit, shit, you don't know how to ride this pain out. "Can't have you leaving us so early, Dean-o. I got a _whole_ amusement park of fun waitin' on you,"

You don't doubt him for a second and you don't whether that's bad or not.

* * *

366 words on my original file and... 518 on here. Huh. Review, let me know if I should continue this thing or what. Ciao. 


	2. 13 rules of Hell

Popplagið  
**Creeno  
**

* * *

Yay non-linear storytelling! Written on a bus at 6:30 in the am and typed at 1:09 a.m. on Turkey Day. There'll be another one up soon, with special-guest, Sammy.

* * *

Hell is very educational. Here are thirteen things you've learned: 

1. You never refer to Lucifer as Lucy and hell as the 'I Love Lucy Show.' He may think it's just a little bit funny, but you will still, unequivocally, end up playing sport to a pair of hellhounds.

2. Lucifer's son, Memnoch as you may have learned, is not Ricky. Either of them. If you think he _is_ Ricky, maybe the thought of a lava bath to wake you up will have you reconsider that.

3. Monty Python's_Look on the Bright Side of Life_ is highly ironic and Lucy Lucifer knows it. That may be the reason why he whistles it. Constantly.

4. This is not an invitation to join in, unless you enjoy the dental work Lucifer can do with just his fingers and zero anesthesia.

5. Coughing up blood on Lucifer's suit does not merit congratulations. Instead, you get double time with the Butcher Team™ and their rusty cleavers.

6. A/C is when a demon gets lucky enough to go topside and you feel the breeze of them going up while being nailed to a cross. Take it as a blessing.

7. Rinse your memories with a good dose of headfuckery, doubt, a double dose of self-hate and loneliness. Repeat until you don't know what's true or what's a lie.

8. You will cry eventually. It makes Lucy very happy and depending on how much you sob means wither time with just a nice blade or time with Not-Sam who seems to enjoy your tears even more than Lucy, judging by how much he doesn't need you. [his words, not yours

9. Taunting Lucy that Sam would run Hell better than he would is never a good idea.

10. Lucy proving you wrong is a daily thing. Get used to it.

11. Memnoch does not enjoy 'Your Mom' jokes.

12. Unless they're on you.

13. Your intestines may serve as:

A) a necklace  
B) a noose  
C) restraints  
D) a gag  
or  
E) all of the above

May this information help you in your navigation in hell. Its damn well helped Dean.

* * *

Review and save Dean. Maybe. 


	3. in which sam gets fucked up

Popplagið  
**Creeno**

* * *

_Just some quick exposition on Sam, seeing as he's mostly incapacitated this chapter. (Lucy got carried away.) He...isn't doing well, quite frankly. It doesn't really show, but I'll try to work on that, should he ever show again. But, no, he isn't dealing too well with Dean dying, particularly the fact that, whoops, Dean died three days before he was due. _

_Forgot to mention that, didn't I? _

_Also, for those of you who haven't seen Constantine and really want to know what Lucy looks like, there's a user on YouTube named solardaymon who has the full screen time Lucy had in Constantine. Great sound and video quality. [: I'd check it out if I were you and didn't really know Lucy. Lastly, anyone want some of Dogma in here? I'd be more than willing to let my brain go at it. (A kretek is one of the black cigarettes, usually sold in Asia.)_

_Exposition over with, let's go._

* * *

"Hello, Samuel," 

Sam goes automatically rigid at the tone of voice: comfortable, too comfortable with just a hint of mocking to it that tells him that this isn't a visit from a friend. It's light in tone, not too deep, but just grating enough to know that the owner can do real damage. He drags his eyes up from his computer screen, taking note in how the room's noise level suddenly dropped a good bit and the temperature increased.

"Can I help you...?" He's really in no mood to deal with anyone at this moment. Gordon Walker had a lot of friends, even after he and Dean had dispatched or dissuaded a good chunk of them. Sam swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of Dean and looks at the older man warily, trying to size him up.

"Sure can," the man, maybe in his 50's, 60's grins down at him in a pristine white suit, head graying and thinning almost evenly. He slides into the seat opposite Sam, almost too smoothly. The first thing that strikes Sam is the fact that the bags under his eyes aren't dark, but a cherry red instead.

Second big flag of 'This Cannot Be Good.'

"What can I help you with?"

The older man smiles and a sharp chill goes up Sam's spine. At the same time, the rank smell of tar hits his nose and he grimaces. "Just _**sit down**_. _**Chill**_. I'm in no hurry,"

And just like that, Sam's more or less glued to the spot, arms at his side, feet planted.

_Shit, is this how Dean felt like under Andy's influence? _

He jerks and the older man throws his head back and laughs. His neck has tattoos of some kind, all pointed, like some turrets of a castle. What just about hits all of Sam's panic buttons is the fact that the vampires, the one's he's been scouting, all of them shriek, scatter at the sound. That barely registers before he feels his head erupt into sudden pain and his vision slide abruptly to the right.

_God, no, please! I went to church, I said my prayers! Please, stop NO!_

_**A large clawed hand, worse than a wendigo, than anything he's seen before reaches out, digs out a boy's skull and it laughs as other, smaller things like it attack him, devour the body.**_

_Sammy? Mom? Dad?_

"Oh, you humans,"

Sam's nose seems to want to join in the imitation game and spurt a river of blood down his face. His head seems to have mated with a wall, pounding above his temple and right eye. He squints determinedly at the man, ignoring the screams of the other people and vampires.

His jaw seems to be working. He puts it into use:

"_What the hell are you?"_

The man smiles wide, pulls out a thin black kretek, and taps it on his blackened wrist. It lights up immediately, smoke curling upwards. He pushes down the screen of the laptop, forcing Sam's focus on him entirely. "It's more of a who, sonny. But none of you humans ever seem to recognize me unless I'm sporting a pitchfork or some ridiculous tail and goatee."

"_Lucifer?_"

"Bingo!" He laughs again as Sam's face contorts in pain and what seems to be bewilderment. "They told you I was gone, eh?" He laughs, more of a disdainful hiss than anything.

"Then why are you here now?" Sam swallows hard, trying to think of a way out of this, but all he really wants to know is _DeanDeanDean, god Dean, are you alright?_ when the answer is quite obvious. "Gloating rights?"

Lucifer has the decency, or pretends to have the decency, to look offended. "Pssh! Last time I did that Jesus went all 'human sacrifice'. No, no, I'm not here to gloat entirely. This is just a little pitstop on my way back down. See, _Sammy_," he snorts the name, "I was completely aware of dear old Azzie and his little 'plan' for you and all the other psychics. Particularly his plan to make you the Anti-Christ, the 'New King' of Hell,"

Sam wants the opportunity to laugh at Satan making air-quotes, but then Lucifer's hand connects with his head. Every nerve ending goes from mildly painful to maybe-I-need-reconstructive-surgery-on-this-side-of-my-face in .01 seconds.

Lucifer doesn't look as if he's moved and through the one working eye at this moment, Sam can only see the indication of the hit by the slight blood splatter on his knuckles. "I'm not God, unfortunately, but I'm more or less informed. And, I have to say, good job on dispatching him!" Lucifer claps mockingly, eyes cold. "Except, for, that part when I briefly got to meet you. Not that you remember, sadly."

All Sam can do is spit blood from his mouth onto the table and hope to God he doesn't choke.

"But don't worry," Lucifer smiles again. "I'll get you too, eventually. Especially after that little debacle, trying to snap Dean out of his deal, and with _Ruby_ no less," his teeth snap at the air and the smell of tar increases. He sniggered at the nearly shocked look on Sam's face. "How pathetic, to try and get one of the Old ones on your side. Too bad I snapped her up earlier. You can find her corpse in the hotel if the police don't first. Demonic martyr if I ever saw one,"

Lucifer looks up, taps the cigarette on the table. Sam's about to be sick from the blood streaming down his face, the tar smell, and the fact that Dean is even more worse off than he thought. Lucifer gives short burst of mirth, and Sam knows he can read his mind.

He distinctly thinks _Fuck off_ in his direction.

"But, back to my original point, Sammy-boy. I've got all my Sins back, thanks to you and your brother, but that doesn't really cure me of that little thorn in my side. I've had _rebellions_, can you imagine that,_rebellions_ in hell, all because it's gone from a triumvirate back to the old dictatorship. Let me know if you see Beelzebub, eh?" Lucifer chuckles again, waving the kretek. "That is, if you live through these next few months,"

Sam suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to either rip out Lucifer's neck, not that he _could_ or claw at his own.

"Mmm," Lucifer licks his lips, "I'd take that second thought, Sammy-boy. Be nice to have you in the suicide ward," Lucifer smirks one last time, and the temperature sky rockets and the bar bursts into flames. "You be good now, do your homework on your demons, Sammy---you'll need it,"

Lucifer stands and straightens the lapels of his suit, tosses the cigarette over his shoulder. "I'll tell Dean you said 'Hello'. Or I might let your fake tell him----he seems to like that sort of thing,"

Sam watches as Lucifer walks off, whistling, tar dripping form his feet, down into the floor until he's gone and Sam can move again.

------

There are two headlines on the paper for the South DeKalb Crossroads Newspaper the next day:

_**DINER FIRE ON JIMMY CARTER BOULEVARD, ONE SURVIVOR: ARSON OR MISTAKE?**_

_**YOUNG BLOND WOMAN FOUND BRUTALLY MURDERED IN HOTEL **_

* * *

Actual newspaper. I hate the damn thing, cause the paper boy always tosses it in the goddamn lawn or right in the middle of my path home. Review! 


	4. in which dean remembers dear old gordy

Popplagið  
**Creeno  
**

* * *

_Next chapter in our non-linear storytelling fun-thing-shindig. [: Now with a semblance of plot...?_

* * *

Lucifer loves taunting you. 

He sits beside you, watching horror home moves of John's last words to you, your arms trapped in this chair, unable to look away. Then it shifts, to the plastic, fake world the jinn gave you, only it twists, becomes worse. You see Carmen pinned to the ceiling, blood on her stomach and that's when Lucifer leans over to stage-whisper:

"_You can get out_."

Carmen's blood drips on the baby, the screaming baby you never had, never _will_ have.

"_You can__leave._"

You watch blankly, unable to cull up any emotion as she bursts into fire, screaming your name.

"_You'd be a fine soldier._"

The fire snaps to yourself, cocky and grinning, alive again, with Sam beside you. Your eyes flicker red and you feel bile rise in your throat.

"_It's not that far up._"

Seriously, you have to laugh. Stairway to Earth? How fucked up was that?

"_If Meg could do it, you could too._"

You learn to ignore Lucifer, concentrate on the image of Sammy's head rolling with your punch. You don't remember hitting him that hard, but you remember punching him. You do, and maybe, for once, Lucy's telling you the truth.

You squirm, feel sick as you hit Sam, over and over again, and doubt comes to you.

You didn't really do that, did you?

You _couldn've._.

And then you see Gordon, behind you, smiling.

Gordon!

Unexpectedly, you laugh and you feel Lucifer's breath on your neck as he hisses, joins in. He knows this joke.

Gordon's in Hell, with you.

God, it was great, seeing him nailed upside down to a cross, a demon breaking his legs and another feeding him blood while he screamed.

It's one of the thing's that's made you smile.

You turn to Lucifer.

"Mind if I get to see Gordon?"

Lucifer smirks.

* * *

_Don't forget to review_


	5. in which lucy has a say

Popplagið  
**Creeno  
**

* * *

_Woo. This chapter's from Lucy!. [: Next up is either **how sammy counted time** or **demon?Dean**. Depends. First one to name the poet, Her, or who what movie She is from gets a cookie or...something._

* * *

"_Hey, Gordon_," 

Dean grins cockily and you watch as he approaches Gordon Walker. Ah, Gordon. He was doomed from the start, for killing all those poor, poor vampires in cold blood like that. They had souls, they were judged properly, but Gordon didn't know that!

You laugh to yourself, pull up some nice wine.

Humans have odd theories on theology, and it makes it so much easier to trap them here. Vampires didn't automatically go to hell once they were turned----they were judged the same as everyone else and all their victims more or less got a one-way ticket to Heaven unless they were a rapist, molester, or anything like that.

Homosexuals don't end up here near as much as most people think they would. But, really though. Who needed sex when one could murder?

_Dean catches Gordon by the neck._

You tilt the wine glass. And what's most delightful are those of the clergy. Ah, if you had that damn playwright again, you'd have him write _endlessly_ on the subject. Sadly, he'd wormed his way out of that contract you had with him. Didn't matter, seeing as you more or less wiped his existence from Earth, except for his plays.

Though, _Romeo and Juliet_ always made you gag just that much more.

"_I remember that time you tried to kill Sam, back in Illinois. Huh_," You watch as Dean's fist catches Gordon's cheek, sends him sprawling.

It reminds you, fondly, of when you had Brutus and Cassius go at it.

Or that moment when Cain killed Abel.

Well, maybe not Cain and Abel. But if you had your way, you'd see it soon.

However, the best to trap in Hell were the ones who _pretended _to fight for a good cause, but instead, just killed for pleasure or gain. Not that there's anything _wrong_ with that you think. She's the one with that opinion.

It's all the more ironic when one of Hers declares war in Her honor. You'd never let her live down the Crusades.

Which, brought you back to Gordon.

Gordon was due a long, long time, and you're content to let Dean have his way with the wanna-be Buffy. Gordon just escaped too, too much for your liking. More slippery than a goddamn angel at times. But dear old _Sammy_ got him.

You snort. He still pisses you off a little.

But, in the end, you got what you wanted: One Gordon Walker and one Dean Winchester. As a matter of fact, Dean's doing a good job, going to work on Gordon's chest cavity like that, and you laugh as Dean's fist collides with Gordon's jaw: you can about taste the blood from your perch.

"_That refresh your memory, you sonuvabitch_?!"

Gordon gurgles, and you glare at the demon who tries to interfere. This is the Winchester's reward for sending that Hunter down early.

It's also the start you need to make Dean into the best damn demon out there.

And judging by the way Gordon's fighting back, making good use of Dean's pretty neck, Gordon just might make it too.

You haven't had a good psycho down here since Hannibal died.

Too bad he hated to work for anyone, even you.

Ah, but you have eternity to thwart Her and take what's yours.

And right now, it looks as if Dean might just be joining you.

* * *

_I? An asshole to Gordon? Nah!_


	6. mirror mirror

Popplagið  
**Creeno

* * *

**_Brought on by an evil-itch, recent watchings of Dark Angel, and the fact the other chapter is on my now dead laptop and will be hell to retype. But still. -shrug- Kudos if you get the characters.

* * *

_Lucy tells him of all the things you could be.

_Someone with your face asks a poor, poor man, does he believe. He has that hunter, killer instinct in his eyes._

Believe in what, you want to ask? Believe in death, hell, all that shit?

Sure, why not.

You believe.

Lucy tells you that you can have strength. You can spin stories out of nothing, have a girl with plump lips, soulful eyes.

She flashes before you and you resist the bile in your throat when you think _Sammy._

You say no.

* * *

_Another you, time he looks, happy fresh-faced. Young. Gullible. **Innocent.**_

You sneer.

He's lovesick, runs after a girl who you know, even here in hell, isn't good for you. Lucy knows that too, and you hate him all the more for it, because he knows you're one of those people who go after things that hurt them.

You say no.

You resolve to dig _yourself_ out of hell, even if you have to become something you hate.

You ignore Lucy's taunting laughter, step over Gordon's broken body, and move forward.


	7. postmortem countdown

**Popplagið  
**_Creeno_

* * *

_My laptop is back, hard-drive intact, as evident by this long-written chapter. xD Me fucking with chronology again. Have fun with Sammy.  
_

* * *

Forty weeks before Dean died, you woke up to find Ruby pouring demon blood into your mouth. 

You threw her off and spat out what you could. You told her to leave. Ruby laughed.

Thirty-nine weeks before Dean died, while being held down by a possessed doctor, you were caught off guard when a scalpel from the near-by table suddenly zoomed up and sliced the doc's neck, clean.

Thirty-three weeks before Dean died, you woke up from a nightmare to see the lamps suddenly zoom back to earth and only managed to keep your laptop from falling too.

When Dean came back and asked about the mess, you said that one of the maid's had done it. You didn't feel guilty.

Thirty weeks before Dean died, you found Ruby waiting for you at a bar, smirking in the light, asking you just how far you would go to save your brother.

You answered. But not with words.

Twenty-seven weeks before Dean died, while he was out at bar doing some other nameless girl with a great body, Ruby taught you how to control other Demons.

You felt sick every time you did it.

Ruby told you you'd get better. She told you that you were deserving, you weren't Ava.

Twenty-six weeks before Dean died, Ruby gave you a book on how to summon the Dead.

You didn't think you'd use it.

You almost brought back your father, but she'd told you that you weren't able to bring anyone back from Heaven. It made you feel bittersweet.

You told Ruby to keep it.

Twenty-four weeks before Dean died, you found an e-mail. The tagline read:

_**6/1/08.**_

You frown, click, but it does nothing.

You decide to trust Ruby.

Four weeks before Dean died, you had finally found what could help you. Ruby had smiled, really smiled then.

Two days before Dean died, you had everything ready to go. You just had to wait a little bit longer.

The day Dean died wasn't the right day. It was the Day you were supposed to save him.

When you found him dead, after going out to get food, getting ready to tell him why you'd been so happy the past few weeks, you blanked.

You don't remember what happened.

The next thing you knew, Ruby had pinned you down, looking sad for the first and maybe only time. Her face was bloody, your hands were bloody.

She wouldn't tell you what you did.

But you guess.

After that, you didn't burn Dean. You couldn't do it.

You sat with his cold, cold body for three days, sometimes falling asleep next to him and thinking that he'd wake in the morning.

And he didn't.

That hurt the worst.

Ruby followed you, even if you couldn't see her. She followed you as you drove out and buried him in the thick, Georgia forest where you'd been that week. She watched as you spread runes, salt around his grave.

You think she might've cried too.

You know you did.

Cried more than you've ever had.

And afterwards, you put up a ring of stones.

You told Dean you'd be back.

* * *

Now, you measure time, postmortem. 

Two weeks after Dean died, you woke up with a hangover to find one Sherman Tuscon standing over you, jerking, and a knife clutched in his hand. His eyes were bulging, and he kept trying to jerk down, kept trying to stab you.

For a moment, you almost let him.

Then you felt that _thing_ Ruby told you to always control rise up and you said _no._

You left Memphis with Sherman Tuscon in a pool of his own blood in hotel room number 447.

In Maplewood, Minnesota, you exorcised three possessed men.

Sort of.

If by exorcise, you mean leaving them gulping on their own blood and with a good bit of their psyche down the drain, then yes.

Twelve weeks after Dean died, Ruby catches up with you.

You've just gone toe-to-toe with James Dean: The Zombie and not the _Rebel Without A Cause_ one. You won, and now he's having a nice time with his father's memories. You're bloody and exhausted and you've been blanking.

Ruby slaps you at first sight.

Then you blank out again and come back to her panting hard, blood on her doll-like face, pain going through your arm, and tears on your face.

She tells you to go to bed, you'll need it.

That morning, you two talk.

About what you did.

_Why?_

You couldn't honestly say.

So you didn't.

Ruby looked disappointed, at first. Then she handed you the Colt wordlessly and her knife. She looked up at you and bit her lip before speaking.

_You still gonna try?_

And again, you answered:

_Yes.  
_

* * *

It's been twenty-nine weeks since Dean has died. You're recovering from burn wounds, not too big. You were lucky to get out of that diner. 

And all you can think at first are those words Lucifer held in front of you:

_Sammy?_

_Mom?_

_Dad?_

It hurts to know that Dean said your name first.

You twist in the uncomfortable sheets. Lucifer shut you down last night, without batting a goddamn eyelash.

_You can find her corpse―_

You tell your brain to shut the fuck up.

_...tell Dean you said 'hello'_.

The lights flicker dangerously and you close your eyes.

Not now.

Not now.

* * *

It's been long enough. 

You stole a new laptop, left the hospital.

You click on the e-mail Ruby sent you.

And you smile.

Thirty weeks since Dean died, you pour pig blood into a vat. Dead black sheep line it and you pour milk and honey into it. You wrinkle your nose and go on.

You take a swig of wine before spitting it back out and pouring the rest into the mixture. The water goes next and then you slit your wrist over it.

And smiling, you let it pour into the mixture before you dip your whole hand and stir it all together, saying what Ruby told you.

You pull your hand out and you wait.

You'll have Dean.

You will.

* * *

_Review, totally makes my day._


	8. 13 Steps To Going Topside

**Popplagið**  
_Creeno _

* * *

_ Hmmm. This Chaper's fightin' me, but as long as it gets done and we all understand the almighty power of will, tenacity, and all-around pigheadedness, that's fine. [: _

_And, yea, it was done! You have poisonivykiss, CHAILYN, wild wolf free 17, a headcold, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, and KoRn to thank for this chapter.  
_

* * *

**13 Steps To Going Topside (Because Not Everyone Can Conveniently Open a Gate)**

Step Zero: Slip from under Lucy's wonderful attention and track down a skinny bitch called Meg/Chloe/Anne/Not-Sam. Start messing with said bitch's vertebrae until she decides to teach you how to go Topside on your own.

Check.

Step One: Go to _the_ Crossroads Demon, run her course. Do whatever she says, let her eat your intestines while maggots feat on your kidneys as she tells you exactly why she was the one who got her hands on your soul and not the others. Lap up whatever she says and reign in the urge to_killdismemberpickherapart_. Just scream and smile, scream and smile.

Check.

Step Two: Take out your hate. Preferably on your not-family. Hurt them, beat them, tell them what you've always wanted to say, even if you didn'tsortofkindof meant it. Do it. Hate heals, Meg/Anne/Chloe/Not-Sam tells you.

Check.

Step Three: Don't Scream. Don't Scream. Don't Scream. Just shut your mouth and _don't scream_. Let Lucy do what he wants, take it. He'll get bored, leave you to your games, your climb out. Just. Don't. Scream.

Check.

Step Four: Learn how to climb towers of filth, even with half-broken legs, bloody fingers, and Meg/Not-Sam/Anne/Chloe riding your back while she tells you _this is nothing compared to the Craggs_ and you snap back _well find something closer to it_.

Check.

Step Five: Challenge every motherfucking demon out there. You don't care if you have to use your fists or use your brain, but you beat them, gain their respect. You lose sometimes, and sometimes you feel the Hounds devouring your skin again and again, but you'll come back. You have to, so you can get up, do it all over again, if only to see Sam for one goddamn moment.

Check.

Step Six: You let The Crossroad Demon kiss your neck, dig into your back as you ask her almost languidly if she'll let you pass, if you ever made it.

Check.

Step Seven: Do not snap her neck when she throws her head back and laughs, all claws and sharp teeth. Do not turn into a rapist, even here in hell as she laughs and laughs in her almost but not quite womanly frame as she chokes back tears of laughter. _You've got will, Dean, but not as much as you think!_

Check.

Step Eight: Avoid Ruby and her goddamn human looks and tell yourself that you are still alright, inside, that there still is apart of you that isn't teeming anger and resentment mixed with fear and concern, but mostly anger. Avoid her and her liege and pretend that you don't hear her screaming as she's raped again and again as you go look for Meg/Chloe/Anne/Not-Sam.

Check.

Step Nine: Smile, smirk, _grin_ as you beat Asmodeus at his own rhyming game. Smile as the Crossroads Demon pets you, and says _Maybe._

Check.

Step Ten: Let Lucifer take you, reshape you. Let him cleanse you in fire and brimstone, but still hold Sammy's smiledesperationinnocencebitchface to yourself and say his name in your head like a prayer.

Check.

Step Eleven: Follow Meg/Not-Sam/Anne/Chloe to the Crags and start climbing. Climb, climb, even when you feel like you're in more pain than you've ever been. Purposely kick Gordon when you see him doing the same, laugh uproariously at his surprise and feel a surge of glee when you feel the coolness of topside.

Check.

Step Twelve: Crouch beneath the church, just a thin wasp of smoke. Wait for a good looking man, contain your excitement, swallow your need for bloodSammyblood and wait.

Check.

Step Thirteen: Force yourself into the tall, blonde haired man with Sammy's shaggy hair. Smother him in fearpainblood_no_ in his own head and work his body into a grin. Toss the keys up in the air, flash your bug eyes and head for the nearest classy ride.

Congrats. You've made Topside.

* * *

_It was supposed to be twelve, but, hey[; You may pick random blonde actor/singer for your visualization of Topside!Dean. Review, ya'll! _


	9. mouth's cradle

**Popplagið**  
_Creeno_

* * *

_Random inspiration brought on by play euphoria, the new eppie and some insight into scene's from the last two chapters. [: _

* * *

**Mouth's Cradle**

You can't hide from her. Not anymore, since she technically owns you. Lucifer just had to taste you first, make sure you were ripe, delicious. But she

is dead now, and you're here, staring down the shade of a prophet, bloodwinesheephoneymilk dripping from his lips as he tells you of your dead brother. You grimace

as she bites into your shoulder, as you feel that _thing_ slip into your intestines, and you swallow your screams. You endure this because

you need to see him one more time, and then save him from the hell you've already condemned him to. The prophet shakes his head. _There is_

_no such thing as hope. _She laughs, nails slipping into your vertebraespinalcordflesh. _There's no way out_

_of hell without turning_. You know this already, made Ruby tell you the truth, even when it hurts. _I don't care. _You spit

blood onto her uglyprettynasty face, let her know that you're still kicking goddamn it, fuck what she thinks. Because you know the truth:

the only thing that gets out of hell is will alone and both of you have enough of it if nothing else.

* * *

_Wee. Review._


	10. army of me

**Popplagið**  
_Creeno_

* * *

_Double update tonight[: Have fun with Demon!Dean. _

* * *

  
You'll make Sam come to you, since Bela can't talk anymore, now that her throat's useless. She's making an incoherent sound on the floor as you polish off the Scotch she'd gotten earlier, your blood coated hands turning the glass a muddy pink.

"Good stuff, huh?" You grin down at her. She knows that she had this coming, but she couldn't stop you. You were smart about it, about all of it.

You leave that night, and yeah, you went there just to kill her, payback for all those times she tripped and played with you and Sam during your year. You've got better people for information.

You hum as her house burns down behind you.

* * *

Ellen purses her lips.

"Dean,"

"Yahtzee," you grin, let your eyes go bug black. She grips her rifle harder and you grin wider.

"He ain't here,"

"Didn't think he'd be stayin' in this dump anyway," You look at the shabby new Roadhouse, built right on the old remains. You have a headache throbbing in your meatsuit from the wards. "Reliable dump, though it is. Mind telling me where I can find him, though?"

She narrows her eyes.

* * *

"Gotta tell ya, Ellen," you grin at her, as she pants, lip split, eye nearly swollen shut. "You're a hella tougher than that daughter of yours,"

The way she glares at you makes you think of Hibbing, Minnesota, and that just makes you angrier and you let the hot knife go for her eye this time.

* * *

Hours later, you salt and burn her body. Your lips split, there's a bullet hole in your forehead, and the meatsuit's close to giving out. You purse your lips.

You need a new one.

* * *

The next meatsuit you use is a college boy, good looking, but an utter dork. The last one you leave to die in some back alley. You keep the car and run over Ellen's cryptic words.

* * *

You don't touch Bobby.

You're cocky, not stupid.

But you leave a clue with his dead dog, poor Rumsfield didn't see it coming.

As you drive away, humming, you think writing _Howdy, bitch_ might've been too much.

But you can bide your time.

Sammy'll come.

* * *

_You're a reckless sonuvabitch._

_And you aren't?_

You wake and growl, kick Meg/Not-Sam/Anne/Chloe off you.

She snarls at you, and that's all the signal you need.

* * *

You laugh as you about rip her head from her body, not caring if everyone can see you in broad daylight.

No one's going to keep you from him.

Not now, not ever.

* * *

_(insert mysterious music here!) Review._


	11. battles

**Popplagið  
**_Creeno_

_No, no I didn't forget about this fic! Honest! I just had severe issues with this chapter. But, babysitting gets things done, ya'll._

_You have my good friend Mila to thank, as she beta'd this without complaint. _

* * *

The first time you went up against a demon in hell was when some three-eyed, six-legged fucker got pissed when you interrupted its deal.

It snapped at you, snarled, and you took a piece of twisted metal and _pop pop pop_.

It fell to the ground twitching and screaming and then you slit its throat, watched it bleed bubbling black blood.

There were cheers and screams of anger.

You won something, but you don't remember what.

-

The second time you fought a demon, it was because you got mouthy with a hotshot succubus. Told her she was as dumb as she looked, with fake titslipseyesface.

Her eyes narrowed and suddenly you were both standing eye to eye, no imps clawing at your stomach, no hellfire, just blank white space.

"_Name the battlefield_," she hissed.

You were stunned, surprised, but then it clicked.

"_Reality,_"

-

She speaks first:

_Hawk falls to man._

«shit, how did this work? how would sammy do this…»

_Man becomes prey to disease._

Her face contorts:

_Disease is fought with medicine._

_Medicine is...is..._

You falter.

-

You lost that time.

That was your first time with Pain and Ecstasy.

-

When they left you, to go after someone else, the succubus had smirked down at you, eyes glinting maliciously.

You made sure to remember its face.

-

After you finish with Meg, you move onto another town, waiting for Sam to catch up with you. He's seen the signs.

He'll come.

As your eyes close, you see demon writing dance on your eyelids.

-

After the Twins, you found a little imp with a golden fiddle and a moustache.

_Teach me how to beat that bitch._

_What for?_ he crooked a giant bushy eyebrow at you.

_Service._

-

This time, you challenge the succubus.

It grins and hisses, "_The mind_," for a battlefield and everything rushes up into a small little house with eons and eons of doors, the succubus at one end and you on the other.

It smiles sickeningly sweet and you stare it down as best you can.

-

_Dammit, Dean, why'd you get in my way, I could've saved him!_

-

You clutch your head and force one of the doors open and the succubus turns a shade lighter.

-

_Goddamn woman, can't do a damn thing, can you!?_

-

It turns back around and a cold hand touches your shoulder.

-

_You let me die._

-

You refuse to turn around and face the accusation.

-

_If you can't do the damn dishes, then you're better suited on your knees--_

-

It glares angrily at you and door after door opens

-

_Why'd you call me bitch?_

_Get out, I never want to see you again!_

_This is what you'll become--!_

_-_

_Mommy, mommy, make daddy stop, make 'im stop!_

_I'm sorry; Sophia, but we can't do anything for you--_

-

And you wake to burning along your spine as the Crossroad Demon looks down at you, her eyes smoldering.

"I never said you could fight,"

There are tears fast drying, evaporating on your face and you can hear some wretched sobbing, but that's nothing new.

Her hound hooks its jaw on your neck and drags you away.

You're no Psychic Wonder, but you think you might've won when you hear the succubus' rough sobs and see her shoulders shake right before the hound snaps your neck again.

* * *

_Review!_

* * *


	12. lilith

**Popplagið  
**_Creeno

* * *

Intro to next chapter, the lazy way. :D_

«_lilith_»

1: There's a vision, just in the corner of his eyes and if only he could actually sleep, he'd find it.

2: Dean's like a white elephant: easy to find, but Sam knows better than to dive right to him.

3: Jacob Swanson suddenly ceases to be a law abiding vegetarian and becomes a ranting, angry bastard over dinner, tips over the table and stalks out into the parking lot, looking for a car.

4: Sam waits in line, head pounding, trying to wait to get his coffee, to stay awake until he finds Dean.

5: Jacob's head snaps up at the same time the Starbuck's bell rings and an immaculately dressed little girl enters, guided by her mother's hand.

6: Cheyenne Swanson jumps as she sees her brother's head jerk back and up, black smoke issuing from his lips, swirling angrily before it head's west.

7: "So, you're Sam," the little black haired girl smiles and that's when Sam knows for sure who she is.

8: The metal in the shop starts shivering as he turns, sees her calm, cold smile on her face.

9: "Now, Sam," she takes a step forward and an old woman's car keys make sharp, jagged lines on her face.

10: "I want nothing to do with you," Sam's voice is acid.

11: It's not hard to keep both the crowd calm and moving to the wall and keep his defenses up, but he can't so how long that'll be the case when Lilith's smile turns into a displeased line.

12: "You're my _brother_—" She's cut off this time when Sam throws her tiny body into the wall, her enough to make her see spots.

13: "That, bitch," says a new voice, "is where you're wrong."

* * *

_Review!_

* * *


	13. brothers and sisters

**Popplagið**_  
Creeno_

* * *

_Eeep, don't kill me! Sorry it took forever. Hit a mild roadblock, but the finale sort of gave me a good kick to the ass._

* * *

«_brothers and sisters_»

"_**That, bitch**_," says a new voice, "_**is where you're wrong**_."

Sam turns to see the male barista in the back, the one with the mohawk and piercings glaring at Lilith's little form. He's about Sam's height, his eyes are pitch black, but he knows who he is instantly.

"Dean?"

The barista looks up and grins ferally, vaulting over the counter. "_**Missed me, bitch?**_"

Sam smiles as (almost)Dean's hand comes up to touch his face. "Not a bit, jerk,"

(almost)Dean grins and that's when Lilith decides to speak:

"He's my brother just as he is yours!"

(he can't refuse her a third time, he can't he _won't_)

-

She came to him once in his dreams as Jessica, pleaded with him in her grownupgirlwoman voice. Begged him to follow her, join her.

He shuddered and turned away, scrambled into waking.

-

Dean growls low in his throat, but she's stronger, older.

She advances, sews his mouth shut, nails his feet to the floor, forces his arms to his side.

-

She came to him a second time in his dreams, when he lie over his brother's unmoving form. She stroked his hair in the hospital quiet and murmured _you could save him, you know_.

But he hadn't listened, just dismissed her.

And days later, her silly little lover had come and fixed everything.

-

"Little dogs can't tell their masters what to do," she advances, and she can feel the anger from both of them. "Now _decide_."

_His eyes spark with gold and she smiles._

* * *

_Review. Promise not to suddenly fall off the earth this time!  
_


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